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"I was only gone for an hour, but when I returned to my quarters, I found a bloodbath. All four guards and my lady-in-waiting were dead. Their throats had been slit and their bodies were strewn around the room, painting the picture of a struggle. I sprinted by all of them to your crib, terrified you'd been murdered too, but I found no trace of blood. Not even your sheets had been disturbed. You were just gone. Someone had taken you and went through great lengths to ensure no one would be able to tell me what happened or who was responsible.
"I don't remember much after that. I dropped to my knees before your empty crib and screamed, before running into the hallway alerting everyone in the castle that you'd been taken. The entire city was searched, every home, business, tavern and boat docked in the harbor, but we could not find you. Every citizen and visitor in our kingdom was questioned, but none of them had seen any suspicious people, and none of the boats in the port had left since earlier that afternoon. It was like you'd just vanished into thin air, and there was nothing I could do about it. You were gone.
"I spent the better part of the last two decades investigating your kidnapping and if I had a whisper of a lead, I would search for you until I hit another dead end. Most Frost Elves told me you were probably dead and encouraged me to let you go. Even family members insisted I grieve your loss and move on for my own mental and emotional health. The only person who didn't think I was crazy was Thrane."
"Thrane?" I can't help my outburst.
Sylvane quickly bobs her head and continues, "Thrane is ten years your senior, and when you were born, he fell in love. He came to visit you every day and even brought you handmade gifts. He whittled you a dragon made of wood and set it in your crib while you slept. You were the sister he always wanted and never had. Hael wasn't prone to playing, preferring his own company, but when you came along, Thrane's world seemed to brighten. When you disappeared, Thrane went from being a joyful and outgoing child to a stoic and cunning one. Trust was earned, not given. Love was hard to accept, and he embraced being on his own. Within the span of a few months, he not only lost you, but lost his father, Eiran, as well in the Great War.
"In our grief, we both turned our focus to our dragons, training harder and more frequently with our affinities in order to keep what remained of our kin, and our people, safe in times of uncertainty. When my father passes, Thrane will make a fine king, and one I would willingly follow into battle should he ask it of me."
Sylvane takes another brief pause, twiddling her thumbs in her lap, before her gaze suddenly darts to meet mine. "I didn't sleep and barely ate for months fearing one of Drogon's minions had gotten their hands on you. Despite our best efforts to keep your birth a secret, rumor of your existence spread and most believed your blood could open the portal and release Drogon from the dungeon your father sealed him in. However, after years of the portals remaining broken, and no demons or underworld creatures having been spotted, I knew they hadn't gotten to you. It was a small relief, but not enough to bring me peace.
"From the moment you were taken, it became a nightly ritual before I went to sleep, that I would call out to you. I would remind you that I would find you one day; a promise I worked hard to keep. It wasn't until recently that I felt a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, you had heard my cry. And now you're here. Home, exactly where you should be, and everything seems right for the first time in twenty years."
I hadn't attempted to stop tears from streaming down my face while she told me of her pain and torment. My heart breaks for her, even though I'm sitting feet from her. With a deep exhale, I do my best to keep myself together, but in that moment of wrestling with my emotions, my mother slides out of her seat and kneels in front of me. She gently reaches up and swipes my tears from my cheeks. Her touch is nurturing, and the brief contact alone feels as if she's mending my soul as only a mother can.
"I'm sorry," I whisper through sobs.
"Why are you sorry?" Her voice shakes.
"I'm sorry you had to go through all that pain."
Slipping her hands on either side of my face, she forces me to meet her teary gaze. "You are not responsible for my pain, Shaye. You are the reason I am healing. My prayers have finally been answered and I have you back. I understand you might never see me as your mother. Whether she had a hand in your kidnapping or not, I know you had Keres Kitarni to fill that maternal role, but I would be more than happy if you considered me your friend."
I throw myself into her, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing as tightly as I dare. She holds me, not letting me go until I slowly pull back, now kneeling with her.
She swipes hair from my tear-stained face and offers me a small smile. "I did not mean to make you cry, Shaye."
"I would very much like it, if you called me Aurelia, Amma."
The Frost Elf word for mother brings tears to Sylvane's eyes and then, surprisingly, she begins to laugh.
"Did I use the wrong word?" I blush, my insides burning in embarrassment.
"No, Aurelia." She shakes her head, flicking tears from her cheeks. "It's just the first time I've been called amma before."
I press my hands to her cheeks and smile. "Thank you for never giving up hope. I'm blessed to call you my amma."
"My little dragon rider," she says softly. "I know your father is proud of you."
Sniffles from beside us draw our attention and I see Eris curled up in her blanket with tears streaming down her face. Her eyes are red and puffy, and I know without her having to say a word that she's been trying her best to keep her cries muffled so as to not disturb our moment. I extend my hand and when she takes it, I drag her down to the floor and wrap my arm around her shoulders, forcing her to join us. With my mother by birth and sister by choice embracing me, I finally feel at home.
Thirty-Six
Shaye
Days two-through-five of dragon training aren't much different than day one. I'm unseated from my saddle every attempt at flying, but thankfully, Thrane and Artax are there to catch me each time. It's gotten to the point that I know without a tremor of doubt in my mind that my cousin will make sure I don't die, which not only eases my nerves, but simultaneously sets me on edge. I still don't know what Thrane's intentions are and even though I want to give him my complete trust, my past is preventing me from doing it.
Atlas watches from the landing section daily, encouraging me every time I want to stomp my feet and quit. He's the calm to my raging storm and I swear, if he wasn't the one here with me, I would have given up on day three when Seraxes purposely threw me from her back, enjoying watching me fall.
Day six, I manage to hold my seat on Seraxes' back, despite her best effort to buck me off, and on day seven, we actually finish the obstacle course. With the flight path finally under our belt, we make our way to the firing range where Seraxes and the other dragons showcase their ice breathing.
Seraxes is quick, accurate, and deadly. I'm grateful I'm not on the receiving end of her wrath. Although, she and I have been slowly growing more comfortable around one another, I can't help but feel the distance that still lingers between us. She might be learning to deal with me, but she certainly doesn't trust me, yet. And if I'm being honest, I don't entirely trust she won't try to kill me when all is said and done.
Over the last week of training, I've learned each Basilius has a different ice affinity, and each is more frightening than the last.
My mother has ice beams. When she shoves her arms in front of her, a stream of ice shoots across the training grounds and encapsulates one of the targets in a block of ice. Her range is extraordinary, and I've seen her demonstrate her power while riding Corvex; they are certainly a terrifying duo of insurmountable power.
